


Pocket of Time

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Nifflers, Time Travel, creature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 13:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: After years of intensive training as an Auror, Neville is given the most ridiculous case of his career: tracking down Nifflers that are targeting Pureblood estates.





	Pocket of Time

Neville spent three grueling years training to be an Auror. He worked over a hundred hours a week, both in the field and at the covert training facility at the outskirt of Inverness. Endless days of intensive combat training; countless nights of little sleep as he studied criminal procedures by the light of a _ Lumos _. 

Years of bruises and broken bones—he was sure, at this point, that his body was at least ten percent Skele-Gro—but it was worth it.

It was all worth it, he reminded himself, even if it didn’t _ feel _ like it. There were certainly days when it didn’t.

Like today, as he frowned at the case file in his hand. He glanced up at his boss, who sat behind a wide desk covered in stacks of folders and parchment. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Neville said.

Harry grimaced. “‘Fraid not.” He leaned against the high back of his chair and sighed. “The request comes from Kingsley himself. The families involved are adamant that this is treated as a criminal case, and the Minister wants to keep the peace.”

Neville flipped through the thick file. Flint, Parkinson, Greengrass...and Malfoy. Unsurprising that they demanded special treatment at every turn, but this was beyond the pale. “This is DRCMC issue. Not something the Auror Office should be handling!”

With a quiet moan, Harry popped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know. But the families involved—and one annoying ferret in particular,”—Harry glowered—” are making a lot of noise over this.”

“And Kingsley wants to appease them?”

“Those families have a lot of sway in the Wizengamot. And some important bills are coming up that need their support.”

Neville hung his head, groaning. Among a number of new bills, the Werewolf Wellness Act would be presented to the Wizengamot in the two weeks, and it was crucial to him that the bill was passed. Its author had been working tirelessly to make sure it was perfect, often working late into the night, long after her coworkers had abandoned their cubicles. Neville didn’t want her to be disappointed if the bill didn’t make it through.

And the Werewolves, of course. He cared about the Werewolves, too.

He raked his fingers through his hair. “All right,” he growled. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, relief making his shoulder sag.

Neville nodded succinctly, glaring down at the case report on his lap. A photo of a mischievous face blinked up at him. Its long snout took up most of the picture as if it was trying to sniff Neville through the page. “Time to go hunting.”

* * *

The cage rattled in his hand; Neville held it further away from him. The creature inside wrapped its claws around the bars, shaking it futilely.

“I’m sorry,” Neville whispered. He glanced around as he rushed through the darkened corridor. Naturally, no one was around. The sun had set hours ago, while he was busy chasing this little fellow through the narrow alleys of London. “I’m just delivering you to the DRCMC. They’ll take care of you there, I promise.”

It tapped a foot, glaring at him.

“We just want to make sure you’re not one of the Nifflers that’s been burgling the Pureblood homes.” Neville raised the cage at eye level, scrutinizing the black-furred creature. “You’re not, are you?”

The Niffler scratched the air with a long claw, disturbing the air in front of Neville’s face.

Neville grimaced. “Yeah. I’ll just let them decide.” He reached the double doors at the end of the hall, a large sign curved above the threshold announcing, ‘Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures’.

Hurrying through the silent department, he quickly deposited the Niffler at the Creature Holding Area, where a guard nodded to him groggily before returning to his nap.

With his duty done for the night, he shuffled through the rows of empty cubicles on his way to the exit. He rolled his shoulders and stretched the tight muscles of his upper arms, exhausted from clambering through the city for hours. 

As he raised an arm over his head, he hissed as a sharp pain ran up his side. He stopped abruptly, lifting the hem of his shirt, angling towards the window where the moonlight shone through. A line bisected his abdominal muscles; an angry scratch. Thank Merlin it didn’t break the skin.

“Oh!”

In a blink, Neville’s wand was in his hand, pointed straight ahead.

A woman raised both her hands in the air. Her riotous curls had escaped her bun, framing her exhausted and bemused expression. “It’s just me,” Hermione said.

“Sorry!” Neville dropped his wand arm. “You took me by surprise.”

“So did you,” she said, her bright brown eyes flickering down where his hand still held the fabric of his shirt up, exposing his abdomen.

He dropped the hem like it was suddenly covered in Fiendfyre.

Hermione cleared her throat, glancing up at the ceiling, the floor, the windows—anywhere but at _ him _. Even in the moonlight, her cheeks glowed pink.

“Whatareyoudoinghere?” Neville asked, eager to change the subject quickly.

“Working on my bill,” Hermione said, staring at the space above his head.

A warm smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sure it’s perfect already.”

“No such thing as perfect. There’s always something to be improved.” She met his gaze, excitement and worry intermingling behind her eyes. "I think we have a real chance of getting it passed this time."

Of their own accord, his feet stepped towards her. He stuffed his hands in his pocket lest they also acted on their whim, like reaching out for her and brushing the curl that kissed her jawline. "With you at the helm," he said, "the Wizengamot doesn't stand a chance."

The tension on her brow eased a little. "If I had another month, and I would feel better. I just wish I had more time!"

"Don't we all?" He chuckled. "Oh, what I would do with an extra month!"

"What _ would _ you do?"

"Hmm." He tapped a finger on his chin. "Sleep. Have a long, hot soak, like when I used to do back in Hogwarts. Oh! And finally try that new Greek restaurant in Diagon Alley."

"I'd like to try that one, too!" She shrugged. "Just never enough time."

"Well." Neville coughed. "Maybe if we both get some time on our hands, we can go together."

Her expression melted into a smile. "I'd love that."

* * *

“—can’t even get a handle on some wild animals, how can the public trust you to keep them safe from any _ real _ threats?”

Despite Harry’s office door being closed, the presumptuous voice boomed across the bullpen. Neville clamped his jaws shut, telling himself to stay at his desk.

“Get your office in order, Potter. It’s been a long time since Hogwarts, and your goodwill has run out. Either take care of this or find another job.”

The door banged open. Theo Nott stomped out of the office, nose held high in the air. It was a miracle he didn’t trip over his own feet.

A moment later, a dejected Harry appeared at the doorway. He beckoned Neville over.

“All right, Harry?” He asked as he entered the office and closed the door behind him.

Harry slumped in his chair. “Damned spoil brats. I’m the Head Auror, for Merlin’s sake.” He tugged at the ends of his haphazard hair. “Not their bloody concierge!” His flat gaze landed on Neville. “Any progress?”

Neville shook his head slowly. “None of the Nifflers I’ve caught were in possession of the stolen items.”

“_ Nothing _? Not a ring or a locket or a damn silver spoon that they’d pulled out of Nott’s arse when he was born?”

“Pretty sure it’s a silver spoon in the _ mouth _.” Neville chuckled dryly. “And no. None of them. If this was just the work of Niffler infestation, I would have found at least a couple of them by now with stolen goods.”

Harry groaned, the back of his head thudding against his headrest. “So, what? It’s just the one Niffler that’s causing all this?”

“I don’t know, Harry. A Niffler is one thing; a Niffler that’s specifically targeting Pureblood families? Is a Niffler even capable of being that...strategic?”

Harry sat up. “Nott is requesting Auror security at his home. He thinks he’s in danger of being targeted next. Wouldn’t tell me why, though.” He placed his elbows on his desk, folding his hands together. “I want you to go there tonight. As security, yes. But, also,”—he leaned forward—” investigate if this isn’t a hoax after all. Maybe it’s just part of a political ploy to gain Wizengamot votes.”

Neville grit his teeth. “If this is all just a political ruse, I swear to Merlin—”

“It will backfire on them. I’ll make sure of it.”

With a stiff nod, Neville turned on his heels and marched out of the office.

* * *

His footsteps echoed as he made his way through Nott Manor. The stoic House Elf that greeted him at the door had abandoned him past the foyer, imparting concise directions to his master’s study before popping away.

The door to the study was ajar, so he let himself inside. The flames were still going strong in the fireplace, warming the room to a comfortable level. Nott must have thought so, too; he drooped on an armchair as if he had suddenly fallen asleep, mouth agape in the most un-patrician manner. He filled the room with rumbling snores.

Neville rolled his eyes. 

He ambled around the perimeter of the spacious study. The mahogany desk was clear of any papers. Regardless, a large paperweight was displayed at the corner of the desk, dark and glittering like a black diamond. Probably worth an entire year of Neville’s salary.

Tall windows lined the wall behind the desk. Neville picked up a golden frame resting atop a windowsill. A beautiful woman threw her head back in silent laughter at the cherub-cheeked boy at her side. A young Theo Nott, before haughtiness had hardened his face.

Neville placed it back on the ledge, which was painted the same immaculate white as the rest of the house.

Immaculate, aside from the lines gouged in the wood, as if blunt nails had been dragged across it. 

Or a set of claws.

Neville spun around—

Just beyond the shadow of the armchair, a Niffler was sneaking across the room, headed straight for the door.

Neville slammed it shut with the force of his magic.

The Niffler glanced at him, terror painted on its expression. It placed a protective claw against its pouch, from which hung a delicate gold chain.

Neville vaulted over the desk, launching himself at the creature. It released a surprised squeak, scurrying towards the door.

“Stop!” Neville yelled. At the corner of the room, Theo Nott continued to snore.

The Niffler kept running—ducked its head, ready to launch itself at the doorknob—

Its long foot tripped over the corner of the carpet, and it fell snout-first on the floor.

Neville pounced on the creature. It squirmed in his grasp, black fur too smooth and slick to hold onto. Cold metal snagged on to his fingers. He snatched it just as the Niffler twisted away.

A pendant hung from the thin gold chain. Neville jumped to his feet, bringing the pendant closer for inspection.

Not just a pendant; something that should not have existed outside of a pocket of time in the recesses of the Ministry of Magic.

A Time-Turner.

“How—” In the periphery of his vision, there was movement. He glanced up—

Just as the Niffler catapulted itself from a floor lamp, aiming for Neville’s face.

“Ahhh!” He stumbled back, arms flailing, trying to knock his attacker off. The Niffler grabbed at his hands, claws worming into the crevices between his fingers to get to the Time-Turner. Off-balance, both of them tumbled to the ground. The chain twisted around them as they wrestled for possession.

In the scuffle, Neville squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid damage to his eyes from the slashing and flurry of the creature’s claws. He tried to grab onto its stout body to subdue it, getting on his knees for leverage. The Niffler writhed under his palms. Its snout bumped against his nose. Its long feet kicked at his chest. Its nimble fingers—

Neville froze.

_ Fingers? _

His hands clamped down on the creature, expecting to be met with its slick fur.

Instead, his right hand plunged into a mass of impossible curls.

And his left hand cupped around a generous swell of—

His eyelids flew open.

Lying underneath him, her hair fanned out on the plush white carpet, Hermione Granger grinned at him sheepishly. “Hi.”

His jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“Hi, Neville.” 

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

“I can explain. If you—” She nudged her head down and lifted an eyebrow.

He noticed, for the first time, that he had her trapped, his knees angled so she was forced to straddle him. In the surprise, his left hand laid forgotten over her the mound of her breast. With a sputter, he scrambled away.

“What’s going on?” He pulled himself to his feet and helped Hermione to hers. “Why are you here? And how are you a—” He gestured in the air, his words quickly failing him.

“A Niffler?” Her shoulders shrugged. “I’m an Animagus.”

“Animagus.” Neville resisted the urge to knock his head against the wall. “Of course. I should have thought to look at the registry.” He shook his head. “You’ve been the one stealing from the Pureblood estates.”

She had the grace to duck her head. “Not intentionally. Not really.” Gingerly, she plucked the gold chain from his grasp. “For this. I heard that at least one of them had an illicit Time-Turner. I was merely retrieving it for the Ministry.” Her blush deepened. “After I used it a few times,” she added.

“You’ve been after a Time-Turner this whole time?”

Hermione nodded.

“But the victims complained of other valuables being stolen.”

She grimaced. “Sometimes, the Niffler brain takes over. I can give them back.”

Neville rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. A Niffler with a penchant for Pureblood estates, he could have handled. An Animagus who also happened to be Hermione Granger who had been intentionally—and unintentionally—stealing?

This was more complicated than he thought.

“Hermione…” he started.

She held out a hand. “I know. I’ll turn myself over to Harry, I promise.” She sidled closer. “But, please, just—let me do my job first, Neville.” Her expressive eyes beseeched him. “I told you before. I just needed a little more time to prepare the WWA. Only a bit more time. So when I heard the gossip that some of the Pureblood families owned one—”

“You decided to get it.”

Hermione nodded once. “My work is just—it’s _ so _ important I get it right.” She reached for his hands; the gold chain slithered over both their fingers. “I’ll confess to what I’ve done. _ After _ the bill has been passed.”

Neville stared at their clasped hands. The chain winked in the light. He closed his eyes, tension leeching from his shoulders. When he opened his eyes again, Hermione’s face was inches away, her gaze filled with subdued hope.

He sighed. “It’s illegal for them to have these.”

“Yes,” she replied carefully.

“I suppose getting these Time-Turners out of the hands of untrained citizens is of the utmost importance.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

Neville shook his head, chuckling wryly. “Damn it.” He threw his hands up in the air. “All right, Hermione. I won’t turn you in. We just have to make sure to give back everything else you stole.”

With a gleeful laugh, she threw her arms over his shoulders. “Thank you! Thank you, Neville!”

Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist. “As if I had any other choice,” he mused.

She pulled back, gazing at him quizzically. In the soft light of the fire, he could pick out the different shades of her irises, browns and reds and ambers, like autumn at its zenith. Her gaze fell to his lips. “Neville—”

The tip of her tongue flicked over her bottom lip, and he was gone. He swooped down and kissed her. Stole a kiss from the master thief herself.

Who, from the way she eagerly molded herself against him, didn’t seem to mind at all. She kissed him back with equal fervor, moaning and sighing and filling the otherwise silent room with her delicious little noises.

He wrenched away. “Wait.”

Hermione blinked. “What is it?”

Glancing around, Neville found the reason why, in that one perfect moment, something felt very wrong.

Theo Nott was still slouched in the armchair. He no longer snoring.

He was no longer _ breathing. _

But even the fire had stopped dancing in the air, frozen in place like a Muggle photo.

“Oh.” Hermione raised the Time-Turner between them. “We must have activated it while we were fighting for it earlier. It’s an easy fix.” She held both ends of the time pendant in her hands.

Before she could turn it, Neville placed a hand over both of hers.

She looked at him incredulously.

He should let her turn the Time-Turner and return them properly to the timeline. But the idea of being free from the shackles of time—an infinity to rest and recenter and breathe—and it wouldn’t even count as a moment once they get back to their reality—

“Let’s stay here,” Neville said. “Just for a bit.”

“Really?”

“Like you said. You need the time to work. And Merlin knows Harry can’t approve me for any length of holiday.” He chuckled. “Let’s stay. The world will wait.”

With a sweet smile, Hermione slipped the delicate chain around his neck and pressed a kiss on his lips. “Just for a bit.”


End file.
